We’ll get to my poem in a moment. Some background first. This morning I had the privelege of being a guest in my son’s second grade classroom to read to the kids. Since I have been writing a lot of poetry lately, and yesterday I was writing to some friends about my favorite inspirational poets, I chose a book of Emily Dickinson poems for kids.

Part of a good "poetry for Young People" series

I knew enough to forsee that this 125 year old poetry might go over some of their heads. So I had to choose the poems carefully, then really sell it in the reading to help them see what Emily saw. It went swimmingly, as we talked about pilleated woodpeckers, migrating butterflies, nature imagery and personification in literature. We even got into Ms. Dickinson’s own illness and early death.

Second Grade Writer's Workshop Celebration

Then during the Q&A period after I had read five or six poems, one of the kids asked me what kind of poetry I write myself. (I had said in my introduction that I write poems, and used to be a teacher.) So on a whim, I remembered that I had a couple of recently composed rough drafts on my Blackberry, and I opened up and read the poem below. It was composed, I think, on the spot somewhere out in my local forest preserve back in November 2009. It went over great, and it made my week to have an appreciative audience of seven year olds who really got it. Emily and Tom live on still…